


Augusta, Georgia

by frankiesin



Series: Ghost Towns [5]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Ghosts, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Religious Content, Southern Gothic (kind of), Trans Character, getting away with murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Spencer and Ryan get rid of their past and try to figure out their future.(part of the polyam Panic! Unholyverse AU; please read Jamestown, South Carolina first so that this makes more sense)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of Mile Marker 17, I've been working on my other AU where Ryan is a trans girl (but a very different character). This is also the last prequel/backstory before the main part, which is going to take a while to write. 
> 
> I'm excited about this AU. It's going to get wild.

Spencer stared at Ryan as she drove off the highway. They were near the Carolina-Georgia border, flying off of I-20 like they had a deadline to catch. Spencer was worried. He understood why Ryan had killed her father, and he didn’t blame her for it or anything, but she’d been acting weird ever since they left Jamestown. 

 

“You don’t regret it, do you?” Spencer asked. The road was getting narrower, and the truck was jumping as it barreled over the uneven, unmarked road. 

 

“No,” Ryan said. “‘I want to get rid of his body, though. It’s creeping me out, back there where anyone could see it if we stopped.”

 

“Where are we going to bury it?” Spencer asked. “The river?”

 

“It might get washed up, and I really don’t want that asshole showing his face ever again,” Ryan said. She turned the steering wheel so that the headlights flashed across the side of the road. They were completely alone. It was just Spencer, Ryan, the forest, and a corpse. “There’re some shovels in the bed of the truck. We dig a hole, drop him in there, and then leave for Atlanta and never come back here ever again.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer said. He glanced over his shoulder as Ryan maneuvered the truck around to get it off of the road and into the forest.  Spencer didn’t want to go back to South Carolina. He didn’t think that Atlanta would be much better, since it was still in the south and there were a bunch of Baptists running around. Spencer had a personal vendetta against Baptists. He was sure that, somewhere, there was a nice Baptist, but all of the Baptists he knew were all bigoted dicks. 

 

“Stop thinking, you’re making me sad.” Ryan put the truck in park, and turned to face Spencer. The headlights were still on. She stared him down for a moment, and swallowed. “We’re a team, Spence. I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again.”

 

“Ryan,” Spencer sighed, “you don’t have to protect me.”

 

“I want to,” she said. She dropped her gaze for a moment, so that all Spencer could see were her eyelashes and the long shadows they cast across her cheeks. “You’re my best friend, and you’re all I have left.”

 

“And you’re all I have left, okay?” Spencer said. He lifted Ryan’s head up so that she was looking at him. “We’re in this together, until we fuck up and die or get sent to jail or whatever. There is literally nothing on earth that could make me leave you, not after everything. Let’s go bury your shit excuse of a dad.”

 

Ryan nodded. For a moment, Spencer thought she was going to lean forward and kiss him, and for a second moment, Spencer wanted her to do it. Nothing happened, and the two of them got out of the truck and walked around to the back to get Ryan’s father out of the truck bed. 

 

Ryan tossed back the tarp, shining her flashlight into the truck. There, half buried under Spencer and Ryan’s things, was the rug from inside the trailer, rolled up to conceal the body. Spencer heard Ryan take a deep breath. “How are we going to carry him?”

 

“With our hands,” Spencer said, because he could still be a smartass. Sometimes.

 

Ryan reached over and slapped him on the arm. “Fuck you. I meant how do we get him from here to wherever we’re burying him without tripping and falling and breaking something.”

 

“Put the flashlight in your mouth,” Spencer said. He jumped up into the truck bed and started over towards the far end of the rug. He pushed their things away and picked up one end of the rug, pulling it back towards Ryan. Spencer glanced over his shoulder; Ryan had the flashlight in her mouth now, and she was looking at Spencer like she was about to die of boredom. 

 

Spencer knew Ryan was hiding her nervousness under that expression. They were somewhere they’d never been before, carting a body around, and hoping not to get caught. Spencer’s hands were shaking a little as he handed one end of the rug off to Ryan and hopped out of the truck. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Okay, now pull it out, I’ll grab the other end, and then we put him… somewhere.”

 

“Great plan,” Ryan grunted around the flashlight. Spencer just saluted her and helped her pull her dad’s body out. He grabbed the end and let Ryan lead them around to the front of the truck, where the headlights were shining out into the forest. They dropped the body about ten feet away, and then Ryan went back and got the shovels. 

 

Digging was a pain in the ass. Spencer had done it enough in his life that he knew this, but it was still a cruel reminder to have to do it again. It took over an hour before it was deep enough that they could dump the body, and then they had to cover him back up. 

 

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Ryan said. She shivered. “Also, I’m cold. What the fuck is up with that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said. He shivered as he felt a chill pass through him, but it was August and there wasn’t any wind. He gripped the shovel tighter. “Let’s… let’s get out of here, and maybe sleep somewhere for a bit.”

 

“Not in the truck?” Ryan offered. 

 

Spencer nodded. He was starting to understand why Ryan was so restless. There was something weird going on. Spencer couldn’t put his finger on it, but something told him that the farther he and Ryan got away from Ryan’s father, the better it would get.

 

“Do you think Atlanta is going to be far enough?” Spencer asked as they got back in the truck.

 

“Who says we’re staying in Atlanta?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow at Spencer as she sped back down the road towards the highway. 

 

“You’re not killing your mom, too, are you?” Spencer didn’t think of Ryan as a cold-blooded killer, but the girl had a lot of pent up rage, and most of it was justified. Killing her father was one thing. He was a drunk, with no one to give a shit about him except Ryan. No one would go looking for him. Ryan’s mom, on the other hand, was married to a news reporter and had kids of her own. People would ask questions if she disappeared. 

 

“I’m not,” Ryan said. “But I know she won’t be welcoming either of us in with open arms. I’m just going there out of spite, and maybe to take some of her shit and sell it.”

 

Spencer nodded. “I can get behind that.”

 

“Good,” Ryan said. “Because tomorrow morning we’re robbing my ma.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled in at an motel about forty minutes east of Augusta. The Vacancy light was on, and it looked relatively cheap. It didn’t really matter, considering they had about seven hundred dollars between the two of them. It wasn’t a lot, but it would pay for a hotel room for a night. 

 

Ryan and Spencer went in to the office together. Ryan had the envelope of cash in her hand, holding onto it tightly like she was afraid someone would come out of the shadows and snatch it from her. She raised her chin and walked up to the counter. “We’d like a room for the night. Well, the rest of the night, at least.”

 

The man behind the counter looked between the two of them, a slight scowl on his face. Spencer couldn’t tell which reason it was. Either the guy thought they were a couple, or he thought they were a pair of teenage runaways. The second one was correct. The first one was dangerous. He let out a sigh and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray that was sitting on the counter. “Well, I suppose. Don’t get up to anything the Lord wouldn’t want you to do, though. Forty dollars for the night.”

 

Ryan didn’t say anything. She opened the envelope below the counter so that he guy couldn’t see how much she had, and pulled out two twenties. 

 

The man handed them a single key. “Don’t lose it.”

 

“We won’t,” Spencer said, snatching it up. “Have a good night.”

 

He and Ryan exited the office and headed to their room. It was all the way at the end of the building. They grabbed some of their bags as they went, because they’d just buried a body and Spencer at least wanted to clean off all of the grime and potential blood. 

 

Ryan double-checked that the truck was locked and then followed Spencer to the room. Spencer waited until she was back beside him before unlocking the door and going inside. 

 

It was a small room, one bed, and not much else. There was a TV on a night stand and a mirror on the back wall, by the window. Spencer walked in and closed the curtains. Ryan flipped on the lights and then closed the door. They were both walking around each other, a little dazed, a little uncertain as to where they were supposed to go from here. Atlanta was the physical destination, but Spencer didn’t plan to stay there very long, and he didn’t think that Ryan wanted to stick around there long either. 

 

“Do you want to shower now or in the morning?” Ryan asked. She’d curled up on the bed, her legs tucked up against her chest, and was looking rather small. 

 

Spencer dropped his bag and came over to sit beside her, pressing his arm against Ryan’s and letting her drop her head onto his shoulder. “We should both shower. We’re pretty disgusting right now, that’s probably why the guy at the desk was looking at us strangely.”

 

Ryan made a face. “You know that’s not why he was glaring at us, right?”

 

“I know,” Spencer said. “I’m not an idiot.”

 

“I wish we weren’t…” Ryan said, trailing off. There were a thousand ways she could have ended that sentence, but she didn’t say any of them. Ryan just pressed her face against Spencer’s neck and said, “you go first. I don’t feel like moving right now.”

 

“Okay,” Spencer said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and slipped out of the bed. He grabbed his pajamas from the bag he’d packed and headed to the shower, stripping down before bothering to lock the door. Ryan wasn’t going to intrude on him. The two of them were close, but they gave each other privacy.

 

As he waited for the water to warm up, Spencer examined his arms, turning them back and forth under the flickering fluorescent light in the bathroom. Thin white scars ran up and down his forearms, along with some pink ones and a couple of new cuts that were red and angry and starting to clot up and scab. Spencer pressed his thumb to one of the new ones, right below the crook of his elbow. The shower was going to sting. 

 

Spencer stepped under the spray, trying to keep his arms out from under the water for as long as he could. He grabbed one of the little bottles of shampoo from the tray in the shower and popped it open, pouring it into his hand and shampooing his hair without paying much attention.

 

Spencer made the mistake of looking down at the floor of the shower. It was grimy with dirt and some blood swirled in, and it was a reminder of what he and Ryan had done. Of what Ryan had done. 

 

_ I don’t blame her _ , Spencer thought as he watched the grime swirl away down the drain.  _ Her father was abusive and a drunk and a shitty person and I don’t blame her for what she did to him. _

 

Spencer closed his eyes. He didn’t know how Ryan killed her father. He just knew that she’d done it.

 

He finished up in the shower and towelled off. Spencer put on his pajamas before he left the bathroom, and walked out into the hotel room to see Ryan right where he’d left her: small and curled up at the top of the bed. Spencer frowned, his heart clenching at the sight of his friend like that, and crossed back over, holding Ryan close.

 

Ryan grabbed a hold of Spencer’s shirt, tangling her fingers in the thin fabric and pulling at it. She was shaking, but she wasn’t crying. Spencer rubbed her back. If he were a better person, he would know what to say to her. Spencer didn’t know shit, though, so all he could do was hold Ryan.

 

“I feel like he’s still here,” Ryan whispered against Spencer’s chest. 

 

“He’s not,” Spencer whispered back. “I promise you, he’s not here anymore. He’s never going to hurt you again.”

 

“There was so much blood,” Ryan said. “After I was done… I don’t know why but I just kept hitting him, and there was blood everywhere, and it was on me and it was on him and it was on everything, and I didn’t need to do that, he was already going to die, I was just making it worse, I was just making a mess and there was glass everywhere and it got into my hands and I was bleeding and my blood touched his blood and I am his blood--”

 

“Ryan,” Spencer said, gently. “Ryan, it’s okay. I’m not going to judge you for what you did to him, okay? And you’re not his blood, you’re your own person.”

 

“I’m a result of him,” she said.

 

“You’re so much more than that,” Spencer said. “You’re smart, and you give a shit about people you don’t want to fuck. You don’t drink, you don’t abuse people. You’re not perfect, but you’re still better than him.”

 

“I’m a murderer and a thief,” she snapped.

 

“And so am I,” Spencer said. 

 

Ryan frowned up at Spencer. Her cheeks were wet and her hair was a mess and she looked like a caged animal who had just been freed and didn’t know what to do with themselves. “You didn't kill anyone.”

 

Spencer thought about Trevor, and how his brains had looked splashed across the back of his parents’ trailer. He thought about the funeral and how he hadn’t been able to go because he was getting locked up in Columbia and how Ryan couldn’t even sneak him in letters because she was a banned influence. He hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, but he’d been the reason the trigger was pulled. 

 

“Stop thinking,” Ryan said, and then she actually did kiss him, and it was the worst moment either of them could have chose. 

 

Spencer pushed her back, gently, because he was still together enough to know better. He kept Ryan’s face cradled in his hands, though, because he didn’t want to lose her. “That’s a bad idea, Ry.”

 

“What, you not thinking or us finally getting together?” 

 

“Either, really, but especially the second one,” Spencer said. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, drying the tears that had fallen at some point. “You’re upset, I’m… I don’t know, but this isn’t the time or the place. Really.”

 

Ryan wilted. “Fuck. I hate that you’re right.”

 

“I do too, a little,” Spencer said. There’d never been a moment in his life where he put a label on what his sexuality was, but it had been labelled for him by everyone else in his life. He was gay, he was a homosexual, he was broken. Spencer wasn’t any of those things. He didn’t know what he was. Spencer knew that he was attracted to guys, Columbia hadn’t completely taken that from him, but every once in a while, a girl would catch his attention. 

 

Ryan was no exception. She’d had his attention for a while, but Spencer had never done anything because he didn’t want Ryan to think that he thought of her as less of a girl. 

 

“You should go shower,” Spencer said, after a moment of thick silence. 

 

Ryan nodded, and slid off the bed. She walked like she was a ghost, moving without touching anything. She was thin, her fingers long and bony and shaking as she grabbed things from her bag. Her hair was in her eyes. She was a scared girl, under everything else. She was a scared girl, and she was letting Spencer see it all because she trusted him. 

 

Spencer didn’t feel the need to cover his arms around Ryan, because he knew she would never say anything. If anything, she’d just take his hand and squeeze, a silent reminder that she was there for him if he ever wanted to talk. They were two queer kids from a town that hated them. They only had each other. Spencer was just surprised that it took Ryan killing her father for them to figure out just how deep that trust and connection really went.

 

He got under the covers, on the side of the bed Ryan had curled up on. Spencer was closer to the door this way, in case anyone came in. They’d get him first. Ryan would fight her way out, because that was what Ryan did. She fought. 

 

“You look comfortable,” Ryan’s voice said. Spencer opened one eye to see her standing over the bed, water dripping down from her curls. She smiled at him, in that sad way she’d done whenever people at the church asked her about her father. “Mind if I join you?”

 

“Yeah, come on in,” Spencer said. He lifted the covers. Ryan set her dirty clothes down and climbed in, turning off the lights on her way in. She nestled in beside Spencer, their feet brushing up against each other. Spencer reached out in the dark and took Ryan’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “No matter what happens, I’m on your side, and I’m with you. I promise.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan whispered. “I promise too.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer woke up with his face pressed against Ryan’s shoulder and his arm around her waist. He pulled back slowly, so she wouldn’t wake up. Spencer wanted to address this attraction, or whatever it was, that the two of them were feeling, but he didn’t want it to be some weird fear response. That happened sometimes. Death made people act in strange ways.

 

Spencer grabbed a pair of jeans and changed into them before scribbling a quick note to Ryan and heading out of the room to go check on the truck. He wasn’t sure why. It just felt like the right thing to do.

 

It was a lot earlier in the morning than he had expected. The air was thick with humidity and fog, and it was already getting warm even though the sun was barely up. Spencer squinted in the morning light as he padded across the parking lot to the truck. It looked undisturbed, but Spencer kept going. 

 

As soon as he got within five feet of it, a chill ran up his spine and he turned around. His heart was racing, and he felt like someone was watching him, but the parking lot was empty except for the cars. Spencer rubbed his arms, trying to feel warm again, and unlocked the truck to check the inside.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer whispered to himself. There, carved into the backseat, was a single word.  _ QUEER _ . It had been cut into the fabric, probably with a knife, but there was no sign of anyone breaking into the truck. Spencer leaned back out and slammed the door shut before storming to the office. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was a few weeks shy of eighteen, he was on the run, and he was terrified.

 

There was a different person behind the desk when Spencer burst into the office. Spencer’s hands were shaking and the car keys were jingling against the roomkey in his hand. Everything was too loud. He could hear himself breathing. 

 

“Can I help you?” The receptionist asked. She was a lady. She was old.

 

“I think… I think someone broke into my car,” Spencer blurted out. “There’s this… this word on the backseat and I think someone broke in and wrote it there. Do you have cameras or anything?”

 

She frowned. “No, I’m sorry about that. We do have a repair place a few blocks down main street. I can probably get you a discount.”

 

Spencer shook his head. “No, that’s not necessary. Thanks anyway.”

 

He left the office and didn’t go near the truck at all on his way back to the hotel room. Maybe Ryan was right and her father wasn’t entirely gone. If she was, Spencer didn’t want to be around what was left of him unless he had to. He could probably convince Ryan to leave the truck and steal someone’s car, at least until they got to Atlanta. 

 

Spencer entered the motel room and silently returned to bed with Ryan. She grabbed onto him as soon as he was back, and Spencer wrapped his arms around her. Ryan needed it. Ryan needed to know that she wasn’t alone.

 

* * *

 

He must have drifted off, because the next thing Spencer knew, he was blinking and covering his face with his arm because the light from the lamp was too bright.  Ryan was sitting up beside him. Her hair was a mess and she had a book in her lap. She looked tired. 

 

Spencer turned over and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You woke me up.”

 

“Sorry,” Ryan said. She didn’t sound very sorry.

 

Spencer yawned. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s almost ten,” Ryan said. “We should probably get out of here. I don’t want to stay anywhere for too long.”

 

Spencer nodded, and moved away. He was halfway out of the bed when he remembered the truck and what was on it, and he froze. “Wait, Ryan.”

 

She sighed. “What?”

 

“I know you don’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife or whatever, but I think your dad isn’t completely gone,” Spencer said. He looked back over his shoulder. Ryan was watching him very carefully. “Either that, or someone who’s really good at breaking and entering got into the truck last night and carved something into the backseat.”

 

“What’d they write?” Ryan asked slowly.

 

Spencer paused. He knew how much Ryan hated that word, and how it made her uncomfortable, which was why he never called himself queer in front of her. “Ryan.”

 

“What does it say, Spencer?”

 

“You know what it says.”

 

Spencer watched her crumple, curling back in on herself the way she had been last night. Small. Fragile. Things Spencer knew she was sometimes. Ryan was more than a broken kid, though. Spencer hated seeing her like this.

 

“I can go out and get some tape or something to cover it up,” Spencer said. “I don’t know if that would help but it’s better than nothing, I guess.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said quietly. “You go do that. I’ll… I’ll get us checked out.”

 

Spencer nodded. He grabbed the keys again and headed to the truck. It hot out now, since the sun had been up for a few hours. The only place that was cold was the truck and the few feet surrounding it. Spencer glared at the thing, gritting his teeth and getting inside. He started the engine and headed down the main street of the town, looking for anything that would sell duct tape. 

 

Spencer found a hardware store and parked outside of it, heading inside and putting on a face that said  _ leave me alone, I know what I’m doing _ . He wasn’t in the mood to talk to much of anyone. He just wanted to get rid of the word and the cold that surrounded the truck, and get himself and Ryan somewhere where they wouldn’t have to think about Ryan’s father or Jamestown ever again. 

 

Spencer was tired of his life haunting him. 

 

“Hi, sir, how are you?” The cashier said, getting Spencer out of his own head. Spencer realised, too late, that his arms were exposed and if she looked down she’d see the cuts all over them. 

 

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m good. Just needed some tape.”

 

“Well, that would answer my next question,” she said, and winked like she was letting Spencer in on a joke. “I guess you did find everything you were looking for. Did anyone help you today?”

 

“Uh, no, it was just me,” Spencer said. She’d already rung him up. Spencer pulled a ten dollar bill from the envelope before sliding it back into the front pocket of his jeans. “Here’s a ten.”

 

She looked a little startled. Spencer got it. Small towns didn’t move very quickly, and he knew he had a strong accent. He knew he looked just like any other southern kid who would come in here, so he understood why she was confused by his briskness. Spencer was just on a schedule. He was on a schedule and he was a little frazzled by everything that was going on.

 

She smiled and handed him his change back. “Did you want a bag or your receipt, sir?”

 

“No thanks,” Spencer said. “Sorry I’m in such a rush, by the way.”

 

She waved him off. “Oh, no, I get it. I’d be in a rush too, if I were in your position. Pastor Davis doesn’t like it when people come in late and interrupt the service.”

 

“You have service on Thursdays?” Spencer asked.

 

She nodded. “You must be new, huh? We’ve got one service every day of the see, and then two on Sunday. We’re very close to God here.”

 

“Oh. I’m… I’m from Georgetown,” Spencer said. It was a lie, but he was pretty sure that a small town girl in Georgia would have no idea what Jamestown even was. There weren’t even a thousand people in Jamestown. It was small as shit. “We just have Wednesday and Sunday services.”

 

“Well, if you’re going to be here for a while, you ought to come by sometime!” she said, smiling at Spencer in a way that told him he’d be looked at strangely if he never showed up to this town’s church. “We’re quite friendly!”

 

“I’ll be sure to stop in,” Spencer said, taking his duct tape off of the counter. He and Ryan were getting the fuck out of here. “Have a nice day.”

 

“You too!” she called out as Spencer left the store. He tried not to make it too obvious that he was fleeing. He didn’t want the girl to get suspicious. Spencer hated suspicious religious people. They asked too many questions. 

 

Ryan was waiting outside of the office when Spencer got back to the motel. She was sandwiched in between the two bags, leaned against the wall and looking around nervously. She looked like someone who was trying to get away with a crime. 

 

Spencer pulled up beside her and unlocked the door. He’d covered the word with tape before he’d come back, so that Ryan wouldn’t have to see it. Ryan grabbed the bags and tossed them into the back of the truck before getting in beside Spencer. She slumped down in her seat. “So, you’re driving now?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “You looked like you needed a break.”

 

“Can we get breakfast then?” Ryan asked. “I’m fucking hungry.”

 

“Yeah, sure, just point out what you want and we’ll pull over,” Spencer said. It was strange. Ryan was almost always hungry, but she only mentioned it around Spencer. Spencer knew it was because Ryan had grown up in poverty, and rarely had food. She never asked people for things, though. She had this complex about doing everything on her own, and Spencer hated it a lot of times but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. If Ryan was going to be stubborn, Spencer was going to make sure she survived.

 

“Spence,” Ryan said, patting Spencer on the arm. “We can get milkshakes for breakfast. Holy shit.”

 

“Why would you want a milkshake for breakfast?” Spencer asked. He loved Ryan, as a best friend, but sometimes she confused the shit out of him. 

 

“Uh, because there’s no one to tell us we can’t?” Ryan said. Spencer glanced over at her, but no, she was being entirely serious. She pulled her legs up to her chest and then crossed them on the dashboard. “We’re adults now, dude, and there’s no one who can tell us what to do with our lives. This is like, a fresh start or whatever. We get to be whoever we want.”

 

“Who do you want to be, then?” Spencer asked. Knowing Ryan, he was expecting some deep, philosophical response. It was Ryan. Ryan was deep.

 

“I want to be someone who eats milkshakes for breakfast,” Ryan said. 

 

Spencer nodded and let out a laugh. “Okay. Not what I was expecting but okay. Let’s go get breakfast milkshakes.”

 

* * *

 

They found a Dairy Queen and went in, sitting in a booth near the back with their food. Ryan had a cookie dough Blizzard and Spencer had a cheeseburger because he was a normal person. He crossed his feet over hers under the table and hoped that the only other person in the restaurant (besides the people working there) wouldn’t notice.

 

“What do you think Atlanta’s going to be like?” Ryan asked. She was poking at her Blizzard with her spoon. She looked up at Spencer through her eyelashes. “I’ve never been to a real city. Do you think people are going to notice that we’ve got accents, or will they just not care?”

 

“We’ve been to Charleston and no one cared about how we spoke,” Spencer said. He didn’t mention his time in Columbia. It didn’t count. It wasn’t an advantage he had over Ryan.

 

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because it’s Charleston. The only people there without a drawl are idiot northerners who are easy to spot and even easier to swindle.”

 

“I hate that you’re right,” Spencer said.

 

Ryan took a bite of cookie dough. “I heard that everyone in Atlanta has a different accent, and that no one who’s born there dies there. It’s a terminus. It’s not really a home.”

 

“You think your mom’s reporter husband was born there, or do you think he’s one of the people who dies there?” Spencer asked. He’d never cared enough about Atlanta to look into it. It was just a city that had had multiple names during its existence. Ryan, however, had a weird obsession with it. It was like she wanted to find something about Atlanta to hate, some reason to think that her mother was wrong for leaving Jamestown to go to the big city in Georgia. 

 

Spencer was pretty sure that Ryan’s mom had the right idea. She’d been a band groupie, before Ryan and before getting married. Spencer didn’t know her very well, but she seemed like the kind of woman who liked to get to do shit. Spencer’s mom didn’t do shit. She was just a girl with a dream, who didn’t use condoms and ended up with a bunch of kids.

 

“I think he was born there,” Ryan said. “I’ve found pictures of him, and he always looks tired, like he’s been in one place for too long. That’s what happens to people who live in cities. They get tired of it and they start romanticising the country and thinking about how nice it would be to live away from people.”

 

“Living in the country sucks, though,” Spencer said. He thought about how he and Ryan always had to drive at least an hour to get anywhere in South Carolina where they could get anything worth their time. There was nothing to do in Jamestown except drink, go to the church, and smoke out behind the gas station that Ryan used to work at.

 

“I know that,” Ryan said. “But people are weird. They always assume they’re in the worst position possible.”

 

“Remember when we tried to smoke and be cool?” Spencer asked, because he’d been thinking about it. “It never worked, and we ended up coughing all the time and I put a cigarette out on my leg because I wanted people to think I was tough.”

 

“That’s not why you did that,” Ryan frowned.

 

“I know, but that’s what I told everyone,” Spencer said. He’d done it because he knew it would hurt. He’d done it because he wanted to hurt, but he also wanted to get himself and Ryan some friends, and he figured he could do both at once.

 

“I want to go back and burn it,” Ryan said, lowering her voice so that no one but Spencer could hear what she was saying. 

 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked. “I thought you wanted to get to Atlanta.”

 

“Atlanta can wait,” Ryan said. “He’s not gone yet. I need him to be gone before I can face my mom and her perfect American family.”

 

Spencer nodded. He didn’t know if burning the body would help, but it was better than doing nothing and driving around in a possibly haunted car that was cold all the time. 

 

He and Ryan finished their breakfast in silence. They got back into the truck, rolling the windows down so it wouldn’t be so cold inside, and headed back towards Augusta. Ryan was driving again, and Spencer kept looking at the backseat, where there was shiny, silver tape covering up that one word. 

 

“Do you think your dad’s ghost did it?” Spencer asked. He shivered. They weren’t alone. 

 

“There’s no other explanation,” Ryan said. “If you couldn’t find a point of entry, then there wasn’t one, because you’re an expert into breaking into shit, and you know cars. And if no one broke into the truck, then it had to be a ghost.”

 

“I can’t believe we thought ghosts were lies,” Spencer said, still staring at the tape. “If ghosts are a thing, is there anything else out there that is secretly real?”

 

“I don’t know, I don’t really care,” Ryan said. “I’ll deal with it if I ever run into it, but I tend to not believe shit unless there’s proof. Also, we need lighter fluid.”

 

“Pull over,” Spencer said. 

 

“No shit,” Ryan responded, and took the next exit into downtown Augusta. 

 

They pulled into a gas station. Both of them got out, because neither of them wanted to stay in the truck unless they had to. Spencer walked around to the front of the truck, only to see that Ryan was just standing there, her door still open, and staring at the side of the truck with a strange expression on her face. Spencer frowned and walked over to stand beside her.

 

“That wasn’t there when we left the Dairy Queen,” Spencer whispered. There, in the same handwriting as before, was another  _ QUEER _ , carved into the paint of the truck. 

 

“He’s doing this,” Ryan said. Her voice wavered, and Spencer finally recognised what she was feeling. It was fear. Ryan had killed her dad, yes, but he wasn’t gone and she didn’t know how to deal with it. He was literally haunting her. He couldn’t leave her alone, even in death. 

 

“I’ll go grab some spray paint,” Spencer said. “You stay here, grab what we need. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes.”

 

Ryan nodded. She grabbed some money from the envelope and handed it over to Spencer, along with the keys to the truck, and then headed into the gas station store. Spencer took a moment to glare at the side of the truck, and then got into it and went off in search of somewhere that would have spray paint.

 

He was back in twenty minutes, but only because he had to pause and spray over the word so he wouldn’t have to do it in the gas station parking lot. Ryan was still inside the store when he came back, looking over all of the gum flavours but not paying attention to them. 

 

Spencer put his hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. She relaxed when she saw that it was just Spencer. “Did you cover it?”

 

“It’s basically gone now,” Spencer said. The messy paint job blended in well, considering the truck was old as shit and had about three different paint colours on it from years of misuse. Ryan’s father never cared for it much, and Ryan and Spencer never had enough money on them to get it fixed up without people asking questions. 

 

He reached around Ryan and grabbed a pack of mint gum from the shelf. “We should go now, so that you can… do that.”

 

“Right,” Ryan said. She grabbed a bottle of Coke on her way to the register, and Spencer handed her his pack of gum since she was paying with their money anyway. Spencer hoped they didn’t look too suspicious, buying a thing of lighter fluid and a box of matches. 

 

The cashier didn’t say anything, and Ryan and Spencer didn't stay around long enough for him to get suspicious. Ryan drove, because she knew how to get back to her father’s body. Spencer fiddled with the radio for a bit, hoping that there would be something other than static or country music, but he was disappointed. He turned the radio off and leaned back in his seat, watching the cars go by.

 

The radio crackled back to life, loud and blaring a commercial.  _ Bass Pro Shop! Giant back to school blowout! Get what you need to show those city slickers how we do it in the South! _

 

“What the fuck, dude?” Ryan said, hitting the radio and turning it back off.

 

“That wasn’t me,” Spencer said.

 

Ryan gritted her teeth. “Shit.”

 

She drove faster, bumping down the same road as the night before. The sun was high in the sky, now, but the road was empty and there weren’t any houses in sight. Rya slammed on the brakes when they got to the place where there were tracks leading out into the forest, and Spencer was flung forward for a moment. He slammed his hands on the dash so he didn’t hit his head, and then fell back against the seat.

 

“Sorry,” Ryan said. 

 

“It’s whatever,” Spencer said. Ryan grabbed the gas station bag, Spencer grabbed the shovels, and he followed Ryan back into the forest.

 

It was hot as shit, and they still had to uncover the body. Ryan set the bag down, grabbed a shovel, and started digging furiously. Spencer joined her, and it didn’t take long before they were both sweating, their hair and their shirts sticking to them.

 

“There he is,” Ryan said. The trailer rug was now covered in dirt, but it was still in one piece. 

 

“Do we… should we unwrap him or do you want to burn everything?” Spencer asked. He figured, whatever happened, Ryan would be the one lighting the match in the end. Spencer was just there to support her in all of this. That, and he didn’t want to stick around anywhere that Ryan wasn’t. 

 

“I’ll unwrap him,” Ryan said. “The rug’ll probably burn, too, but I want to make sure we get him first.”

 

Spencer nodded and stepped down into the grave. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he and Ryan pulled the rug back. He knew that Ryan had killed her father with a broken glass bottle, and that there had been a lot of blood spilled because she’d stabbed him multiple times with the glass, but Spencer didn’t know how badly the body would be mutilated.

 

“Oh my God,” he said, half to himself. 

 

Ryan’s father was still recognisable, but his face had been slashed open and his neck was torn and ripped apart. He and the rug were both coated in dried blood, and it all smelled really bad. Spencer brought his arm up to cover his nose so he didn’t have to smell it any more. 

 

“I’m a monster, I know,” Ryan said, uncapping the lighter fluid and pouring it onto her dad’s body. “Just don’t let yourself go up in flames, okay?”

 

“You’re not a monster,” Spencer said, tucking the rug in beside the corpse and then climbing out of the grave. Ryan followed, not looking at Spencer. Spencer turned her around to face him and looked her in the eyes. “Ryan, you’re not a monster. Your dad was. And so what if you got caught up in the moment and killed him more than was necessary? He deserved it. He made you feel worthless for eighteen years, and now we’re going to get rid of him and you’ll never have to think about him ever again.”

 

Ryan nodded, slowly. She pulled a single match out of the matchbox and lit it before tossing it into the grave. Immediately, her father’s body went up in flames. Spencer watched Ryan’s face turn golden in the light of the fire, her eyes shining and her jaw clenched, shadows flickering across her sharp cheeks. 

 

“I hate him,” she said. “I hate him and I hate that he didn’t just fucking die and I hate that he knew how to get under my skin.”

 

“We’re going to make sure he never does that again,” Spencer said. Ryan took a hold of his hand, and Spencer squeezed hers gently. He glanced over his shoulder, back to where the truck was still parked on the side of the road. “And if this doesn’t work, we’ll torch the truck too and figure something else out. He’s going to be dead, Ryan. Permanently.”

 

“He fucking better be.”

 

The two of them watched the flames, and then, when it seemed like they’d burned through most of Ryan’s dad and the rug, poured water over the fire and then covered the grave back up. 

 

Spencer followed Ryan back to the truck, hoping that it would stay hot once they got to it. He didn’t want to have to get rid of their transportation, because cars were a pain in the ass to steal, and they didn’t have enough money to go out and buy a new one. 

 

“It’s warm,” Ryan said. She placed her hand on the rearview mirror, which had a crack running through it from where a rock had hit it at one point. “He’s gone.”

 

“Fucking finally,” Spencer said, and moved around to the passenger side, getting into his seat. He looked over to Ryan as she started the truck up and started turning it around. “Ready to go see Atlanta?”

 

“More than you could imagine,” Ryan said, a relieved smile gracing her face for the first time since she and Spencer had met. It wasn’t over, because Ryan was still trans and Spencer was still queer and people were still going to hate them for existing, but it was the beginning. They had hope, now. They knew they could survive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


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